


would you be my friend

by foreverhermit



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Friendship, Gen, Huddling For Warmth, Hypothermia, Platonic Cuddling, i am not a medical doctor, maybe it's hypothermia, that's pretty much it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 07:35:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1770949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreverhermit/pseuds/foreverhermit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwaine probably wasn't drunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	would you be my friend

**Author's Note:**

> a very self-indulgent ficlet about snuggling 
> 
> leave me alone

Merlin’s hand slides from his forehead to his cheek. Gwaine, a little (a lot) dizzy and a teensy bit delirious, leans into the touch. Even though he feels pleasantly warm, a distant part of him recognizes the shocking heat of Merlin’s cupped palm and how it contrasts against the iciness of his skin.

“Well?” Gwaine prompts.

“Early stages of hypothermia,” Merlin pronounces.

“What?”

“Freezing to death.”

“ _Ah_.”

Merlin strips him—or, more precisely, he orders Gwaine to take off his wet clothes, where the snow and sleet and partially frozen pond water soaked through, and change into his dry spare set. Merlin does pitch in when Gwaine’s shivering prevents his fine motor skills from working on buttons and the like, or when he struggles from weakness to remain standing. It takes them a remarkably short time to get him undressed and redressed, and then bundled on the floor in several more blankets than Gwaine thought could fit in a pack. Merlin moves fast though, understanding the necessity better than Gwaine, it seems.

“I’ll be back,” Merlin says, and then he’s gone in a flash.

Maybe. Maybe it’s a flash.

Because time appears to be becoming increasingly more relative for Gwaine as his thoughts swim languidly in a fog and his vision dims beneath drooping eyelids. It feels like Merlin’s been gone an hour, until he blinks and Merlin’s already there, some kindling and firewood set up before him. He hears the scrape of stone and the crackle of a spark.

* * *

 

Merlin whispers a low _forebearnen_ as he goes through the motions of making a proper, non-magical fire. Even with a barely conscious Gwaine, he can never be too careful. He adds a small pulse of unspoken magic to the spell, just to make it burn brighter and longer with less fuel. It’s the least he can do.

If Gwaine worsens during the night he’ll try something more. Merlin is normally rubbish at healing spells and doesn’t intend to make things worse for his friend with a quick fix solution. But he will try if he has to.

“You’re good at that.”

Merlin startles, twists around in his crouched position to see Gwaine admiring the fire.

“Y’always getit on the first try,” he says, speech slurred. “H-How do you do that, Mrrlin?”

Merlin stands and steps around the fire. He smiles down at Gwaine. It is definitely not the time to find him amusing, considering the life-or-death situation, but Gwaine has an ability to charm just about anyone, no matter the occasion or lack of coherency. And damn it if Merlin’s not a complete sucker for it, sometimes.

“Practice,” he answers.

“But I’ve got... _loads_ of practice. I’m a… _was_ a-uhn—an outlaw, Mer’nin. And I still can’t do’t like you.”

“That’s because you always wear those silly gloves and muck it up,” he replies easily, settling down on the other side of Gwaine’s prone figure. He leans back onto his right elbow and covers them both in a blanket.

“Not silly. Just don’wanna get burned.”

Merlin snorts softly as he sorts out the blanket. He reaches over Gwaine and tucks the edges underneath him. “That’s the thing you’re cautious about? Burning your pretty fingers?”

Gwaine shifts until he’s firmly pressed up against Merlin, instinctively seeking warmth. “They _are_ pretty,” he agrees. “So’s m’face. Would’you still be m’friend ifff I ha’ no face?”

Merlin lies down fully. He rolls onto his side, closer to Gwaine and the fire, and what space they can’t share on the single pillow, Gwaine’s shoulder makes up for it. Unfortunately, this also means Merlin gets a face-full of long hair, but he figures it’s better than the knight’s feet. “Yes, Gwaine,” he says, suddenly very tired. He should stay awake to watch over Gwaine, but he knows he won’t be out for more than an hour or two. There’s no escaping sharing body heat, for Gwaine’s sake, so he might as well live it up with some rest.

“What’if I was juss... ‘orribly scarred?”

“Mhmm.” Merlin fails to hold back a yawn and Gwaine makes a sleepy, amused huff.

“Tickled,” is the last thing he says before drifting off to sleep. Merlin soon follows.


End file.
